


the weather outside is frightful

by thegrayness



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27769024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrayness/pseuds/thegrayness
Summary: A surprise early season storm hits town. David takes care of Patrick after he shoveled their whole driveway when he discovered the snowblower the previous owners left was dead.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 19
Kudos: 150
Collections: Schitt's Creek: Frozen Over (2020)





	the weather outside is frightful

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCFrozenOver2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver2020) collection. 



“Oh, honey,” David says, standing from his seat at the kitchen table. Patrick’s just come in from shoveling their driveway—bottom lip poking out exaggeratedly as he stomps the snow off his boots in the entryway. “Was it terrible?” He asks, helping Patrick with his coat. The snowblower that Patrick was excessively excited about turned out to be broken—and they found out right after Schitt’s Creek was blanketed in about a foot of snow. 

Patrick gives him a  _ look  _ and David bites back a grin at how cute Patrick looks when he’s pouting, knowing that won’t improve Patrick’s mood. “Why don’t you finish this and I’ll make you some tea, okay?” David offers, rubbing at Patrick’s shoulders. “Do you want some soup? I have some of Twyla’s chicken noodle, and I’m pretty sure it’s some kind of healing potion? Even though her smoothies could kill a person? Best not to examine it.” He moves into their kitchen as Patrick kicks off his shoes in the entryway. 

Patrick doesn’t answer, so David grabs the takeout container from the fridge anyway. He gets the soup into a pot on the stove and sets the kettle to boil. Patrick is down to his t-shirt and sweats, and he’s still standing at the front door.

“I put some clothes in the dryer for you so they’d be warm—go change and then we’ll get you set up on the couch to warm up,” David says, giving the soup a stir. He notices the corner of Patrick’s mouth twitch, which he considers progress.

“Thanks,” Patrick mumbles, and David grins into the pot of soup. 

Patrick shuffles out just as the kettle is whistling, and David waits while Patrick arranges himself on the couch as he sees fit, knowing he’ll ask for David’s help getting the blanket situated because it “works better” that way. 

David hears Patrick grumble, hears the frantic rustling of fabric, and heads into the living room with Patrick’s tea. “Hi, honey,” he says, desperately trying to hide a smile. Patrick is pouting into his lap, tugging pathetically at their snuggliest blanket as it’s thrown haphazardly across him and half the couch. 

After setting Patrick’s tea on the side table, he presses a kiss to Patrick’s forehead and sets about rearranging the blanket over Patrick’s lap so he’s tucked in correctly. It’s a science, really, and David’s happy to help. Patrick looks up at David when he stands up straight again, eyes shiny and warm and adoring, and David gives him a small smile. “Sit tight, I’ll grab the soup.”

Patrick makes a noise of agreement, which David counts as a win. Pouty Patrick is always silent when he’s in full pout mode, so any sign of communication is a move in the right direction. 

Once they’re both settled on the couch with their soup—David under his own blanket so as not to disturb the delicate balance of Patrick’s tucked-in comfort—David clicks on the TV at a low volume. He flips to something sports-related, and scoots a little closer to Patrick, careful not to jostle their soup. 

Patrick watches whatever’s playing, taking tiny spoonfuls of soup every now and then. David watches Patrick as he relaxes incrementally, the crease between his brows smoothing out, the color in his cheeks returning to normal, no longer flushed from the frigid weather. When Patrick breathes a huge sigh and slumps further into the couch, David knows he can engage. 

He sets both of their bowls down on the coffee table and tugs Patrick’s knees, helping him swing his legs over David’s lap. David dutifully re-tucks Patrick’s blanket. He slips his hand under the bottom hem of the blanket, wrapping his fingers around Patrick’s foot and giving it a light squeeze. Patrick snuggles further into the couch and makes a pleased little groan—David’s cue to continue. 

After a few minutes, Patrick finally speaks. “Thank you, David,” he says, his voice small, but blissful. He sighs again, quiet and content, and wiggles his toes in David’s grasp. 

“Any time, honey. Thank you for shoveling the driveway.” He slides his hand up the leg of Patrick’s sweatpants, fingertips brushing over the coarse hair on his legs. David’s wrist catches on the hem of the pants as he reaches Patrick’s knee. Patrick giggles quietly and shifts under the blanket. 

David gives Patrick a look of mock disapproval and Patrick grins back, tugging the blankets over his mouth to hide it. David rolls his eyes and rubs a hand up Patrick’s leg again, over his pants this time. He skims his palm over Patrick’s knee, sliding up to the top of Patrick’s thigh, giving it a squeeze. 

Patrick hums suggestively and shifts his hips—David can’t see for sure, because he’s under the blanket, but he imagines Patrick’s thick cock swelling in his sweatpants. He keeps his hands off, just for a few more minutes, slipping his fingers beneath the waist of Patrick’s pants and giving a light tug. 

“Yeah,” Patrick sighs, the sound muffled by the blanket still over his mouth, and David reaches his other hand under the blanket to pull the waistband down Patrick’s thighs. Patrick does his part and lifts his hips, heels digging into David’s own legs for leverage. 

David goes to lift the blanket, but Patrick starts and grabs it from underneath, keeping it close. David raises an eyebrow. “Gonna be cold,” Patrick says.

“How do you imagine this is gonna work then?” David asks, touching gently at Patrick’s hip, into the dip there. 

Patrick groans. “You get under the blanket?” He asks hopefully.

David wrinkles his nose and feels his way to Patrick’s dick, circling his fingers around the base. “Then you won’t be able to see me.”

Patrick tugs the blanket away from his face and frowns. “That’s true,” he agrees. “Okay.” 

Together they move the blanket, and David gets situated, wedging his shoulders between Patrick’s knees, trying to keep them both from falling off the couch. Patrick helps by dropping his outside leg off, planting his foot on the floor to make room. He adjusts the pillow under his head, too, looking down his body where David is nestled. 

It’s a good look for Patrick, legs spread with his dick full against his belly, wetness at the tip making David’s mouth water. He kisses over Patrick’s thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin, reveling in the quiet gasps that Patrick can never hold back. Not that David wants him to—he bites hard at his favorite spot, kissing over the red mark it leaves, smiling against Patrick’s soft skin as he whimpers at the sting. 

“David,” he says, and David can hear the pout in his voice. He presses a soft, teasing kiss to Patrick’s cock, right at the base, slipping his tongue out to taste the salty skin. “Yes,” Patrick sighs, tenderly cupping the back of David’s head. 

David huffs out a laugh before kissing his way up the underside of Patrick’s dick, flicking his tongue under the head, wrapping his lips around the tip. He swirls his tongue, looks up through his lashes as Patrick groans and throws his head back, his fingers digging into the back of David’s neck as he takes Patrick deeper. 

Patrick sighs David’s name again, his hips jumping slightly. David pulls back a bit, sucking softly at the head again, listens as Patrick moans and digs the fingers of his other hand into David’s shoulder. 

He pulls off, licking down to Patrick’s balls, taking one into his mouth. Patrick’s talking, voice low and urgent, and David takes him in again, all the way down. Patrick’s fingers are so tight on his shoulder, he might bruise from it, and the thought makes him tremble between Patrick’s legs. He moans around Patrick’s dick, working his tongue as he presses his nose against Patrick’s belly. He swallows once, then eases off a bit, breathing heavily through his nose as Patrick’s fingers make their way into his hair. 

“David, David,  _ fuck _ ,” he mutters, giving a tug on David’s hair. David moans again, taking Patrick all the way. His eyes are closed, and he focuses on the way the muscles in Patrick’s thighs twitch under his hand, the way he’s tugging restlessly at David’s hair. David holds him down with a hand tight on his hip, but relishes the way Patrick still manages to jerk his hips in tiny thrusts, uncontrollable.

Patrick moves one hand back to David’s shoulder, clenching and unclenching his fingers over David’s sweater. He murmurs David’s name, tugging his hair in warning, and when David slips his fingers down, teasing the spot behind Patrick’s balls, Patrick’s curses loudly and comes in David’s mouth. He pulls David’s hair  _ hard _ , squeezing tightly at David’s shoulder, too, before melting into the couch in a boneless heap, tension gone. 

David keeps Patrick’s cock in his mouth, sucking softly, until Patrick makes a weak sound, nudging David in the side with his knee. He pulls off, moves to awkwardly wipe his mouth on Patrick’s sweatpants, grinning at Patrick’s sound of protest. “You’re fine,” he says, and Patrick lifts his head up at the sound of David’s  _ wrecked _ voice. He gently touches David’s cheek, ghosting his knuckles over David’s stubble. “I’m fine,” David says, clearing his throat when his voice still sounds… like he deepthroated Patrick’s dick. He turns his head to kiss Patrick’s palm. 

David scoots up Patrick’s body, wedging himself between Patrick and the back of the couch as Patrick turns onto his side, facing David, to make a bit of room. Patrick’s pants are still around his thighs, and David’s very-interested dick is pressing into Patrick’s hip, but David snuggles in anyway. He sighs happily as Patrick wraps him up and holds him close, kissing his forehead. 

“Love you,” he murmurs against David’s skin. 

“Mmm,” David hums. “Love you too, honey.”


End file.
